


Strings of Tension Waiting to be Struck

by SassyInkPen



Category: The Sentinel (TV)
Genre: Alternate Ending, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arguing, Cabin Fic, M/M, Snowed In
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-14
Updated: 2018-11-14
Packaged: 2019-08-23 10:23:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16617152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SassyInkPen/pseuds/SassyInkPen
Summary: This is a different take on how the Sentinel project could have ended. Kind of a start on a alternate possibility for TSbyBS.





	Strings of Tension Waiting to be Struck

Jim leaned against the truck and checked his watch for the fifth time. He swore under his breath. Blair was supposed to meet him for lunch before they drove up into the mountains to check out a lumber mill that may have been involved in an embezzling scheme. It was a long shot, but the case was getting cold and Jim didn’t want to pass up the opportunity. 

That was an hour ago. Jim had already given up on eating together and bought sandwiches from the cart on the corner. His was long gone, and now contributing to the hearburn the whole damn situation was giving him.

When Sandburg finally showed up, Jim could hear him long before he could see him, racing through campus yelling for people to ‘excuse me’ or ‘get out of the way’.

Finally, Blair burst out from behind one of the buildings, hollering, “I know, I know, I’m sorry,” as he careened around the corner and ran up to the truck. “I know I’m late, I couldn’t help it.”

“Here’s your lunch,” Jim said, flinging a paper bag at him that contained a tuna fish sandwich. “Get in, we’re behind schedule.”

“Gee, thanks.” Blair caught the bag as he reached for the door, and climbed into the seat. “Nice to see you, too.”

Tensions between them had been high lately, and the mood around the loft was not a pleasant one. Blair was nearly finished with his dissertation, and they’d had a couple of close calls between demands from the committee, and some incidents at the station that nearly blew Jim’s cover. They knew this day was coming, but it snuck up on them too soon, and they were scrambling to come up with a plan that would allow Blair to submit without exposing Jim’s abilities. Between the many discussions, arguments and flat out fights they’d had about it, all they’d succeeded in doing was to stir up a lot of bad feelings between them. The truth was that no solution could give them a happy ending and they both knew it. One of them was going to get seriously screwed. On top of it all, Jim knew what whatever they did, the project was over, and he was dreading that more than any of the possible fallout they faced.

“So what was it?” Jim asked, as he slammed his door and started the truck. “Class ran late? Lots of students needing your sage advice? Or, I know...a makeout session with some co-ed in your office. Am I right?”

“I’m sorry I was late,” Blair said evenly, “I was talking to the department head about withdrawing my thesis and trying to find out what my options are. You remember the giant fucking elephant in our lives.”

“Right.” Jim set his jaw and stared straight ahead. “So, you’re actually planning to go through with that.”

“I don’t really see what other choice we have. Do you?”

“It’s just that you seem to be amazingly comfortable with it-”

“Oh man,” Blair dropped his head back against the seat, “could we please not start this again?”

“Yeah, sure, whatever.” Jim put the truck in drive. “Buckle up, we need to get a move on if we’re going to get out to that lumber yard.”

“You can’t be serious. You still want to go up there? There's a huge snow storm practically on top of us. I mean, look at this, it's starting already.” Blair pointed out the window.

“It’s one flake, Sandburg, we'll be fine. You sound as panicked as everyone else. The storms are never half as bad as they predict, and this one is still a long ways off, I can tell.”

“Is that like a sensory thing?”

“Sure,” Jim lied. “Besides, if you’d been here on time, we’d be half way there by now.”

“Go to hell, Ellison. I have bigger things to worry about than your precious timeline.”

Jim ignored him and pulled out into traffic heading east, toward the outskirts of town and the highway that would take them into the hills.

Silence reigned in the truck while they nursed their irritations and Blair ate his sandwich. Jim immediately regretted the choice of tuna fish, but he’d been preoccupied at the time and didn’t pay much attention to what he was getting.

The weather held fine for awhile, with just the occasional snowflake whipping past the windshield. Eventually, however, the one turned into several, and then into actual snowfall. Within an hour, it had turned to huge fluffy flakes, like a giant snow globe. Even so, Jim was unconcerned.

Blair fidgeted next to him. “I think we should turn back, Jim. This is just gonna keep getting worse.”

“Oh come on, this is beautiful. Besides, we’re over halfway there.”

Later, when the wind picked up and the snow had grown heavy enough to cause whiteout conditions, Jim peered intently through the windshield, cursing himself for being rash and pissy.

“Still think this is beautiful?” Blair broke into his thoughts.

“Shut up, I need to concentrate.”

“We really need to turn around, this isn’t supposed to let up for hours, and the further we go the worse it’s going to get.”

“Yeah, well...I’m willing to concede that now, but I’m having a hell of a time finding a good place to do it.” The truck started a slow fishtail, and Jim counter steered to correct it.

“Oh God.” Blair sucked in his breath and gripped the dashboard. “I told you s-”

“Don’t even start.”

The truck swailed again, and this time it veered toward the left side of the mountain road which had a steep drop off. 

“Jesus, Jim, It doesn’t matter _where_ we turn off, just get us off this damn road.” 

Jim was inclined to agree with him, but the options were few and far between.

Blair pointed. “Look, there’s a road up ahead, we can turn there.”

“I don’t think so. That’s not very wide and nobody’s been down it for awhile. I’m not even sure it’s a road.”

“Who cares? If it goes anywhere besides down the side of the mountain, shouldn’t we give it a try? You just said you haven’t seen anything else. If you’d listened to me in the first place, we wouldn’t be out here at all.”

Jim couldn’t really argue with that, so he eased up on the gas and turned, trying to line himself up with the nearly invisible ruts as best he could in the dimming light. They were only about a hundred feet down the road when the truck slid sideways, and no amount of counter steering could stop it. The rear tire dipped down first, and Jim held his breath while he tried everything he could to get back up to the middle of the road. He swore when his front tire slipped into the ditch. Throwing it into reverse, he tried to rock the truck forwards and backwards to see if he could break free, but each shift just sunk them deeper.

Jim finally gave up and let his head fall back against the seat. “Happy now?”

“Fuck off. Of course not.” He raked a hand through his hair. “What do we do now, go back to the road and try to flag someone down?”

“When’s the last time you saw a car, Sandburg? I’m listening as far as I can and there’s no one coming.”

“Then what’s your suggestion? You got us into this mess. At least I’m trying.”

“Fine,” Jim sighed. Although, in his opinion the blame could be spread pretty evenly. “It’s freezing, it’s getting dark, and even if we could get the truck out, it would be insane to try to drive back-”

“ _Now_ you see the insanity…”

Jim glared over at Blair, but let it drop. “This road’s gotta go someplace. Let’s use what daylight we have left to see if there’s anyone living down there. I think shelter needs to be our main concern.”

They climbed out of the truck and struggled up onto the road, wind and snow whipping around them. Blair raised his voice, “Have you got anything?”

Jim pulled his collar up, and hunched against the storm. “I can’t make out much,” he hollered above the wind, “but I think there’s a hum, like electricity or machinery.” He cocked his head and concentrated. “It’s that way, on the right.”

They started down the road, fighting through the storm as best they could. It was difficult to talk, and the weather created a kind of forced isolation, giving Jim too much time to think. His head was a mess, and had been for days. He felt guilty, angry and helpless all at the same time, not only about their current circumstances, but about their life in general. Their world was crumbling and he had no way to stop it.

Jim tracked the sound to a small cabin deep in the woods. By the time they reached it, Blair was shivering and Jim could barely feel his feet, which was saying something. They trudged through the snow up onto a tiny porch, which faced a door and two windows. It didn’t take much examination to see that the place was deserted and had been for at least a few weeks. 

“It looks like a hunting cabin,” Jim said, peering through the windows. “No one’s here now, but the electricity is on. It’s the refrigerator I’ve been hearing.”

“Damn it, what now?” Blair was pale and miserable.

Jim looked down at the hasp that bolted the front door, and fingered the combination lock hanging from it. “I can crack this, easy. We’d be breaking in, but it beats freezing to death, and if we show a little respect, pay for what we use...”

“Do it. Hopefully they’re charitable people, and it’s not like we’re gonna trash the place.”

“Stand right here.” Jim grabbed Blair by the elbow and positioned him as a windbreak, then took off his gloves and blew on his fingers to warm them before going to work on the lock. Interference from the storm made it trickier, but before long, it snapped open and he ushered Blair inside.

They stamped the snow off their boots and Blair turned on a nearby lamp. It was a basic one-room cabin with a kitchen at one end and a large stone fireplace dominating the other. A narrow bed stood in the corner, and a tiny sofa and coffee table made up the living room. 

“I’ll get a fire going,” Jim said, “why don’t you see what there is for supplies.”

Blair rifled through the cupboards while Jim stacked logs. “There’s three cans of peaches, a couple cans of beef stew, a bag of popcorn, tea bags and some cornflakes.” He pulled open the fridge. “No milk, just a six pack of beer and a few assorted condiments.”

Next, Blair tried the faucet. “Water’s still on. I guess _they_ didn’t believe the snow was coming either.” He filled a kettle that was sitting on the stove and lit a burner under it.

“That’s nice, Chief, keep it up….” Jim muttered.

“If the shoe fits…” Blair muttered back, as he searched for cups.

After that, the business of warming the cabin and preparing dinner provided enough distraction that they fell into a truce and managed to get along for the most part. Conversation wasn’t exactly flowing amiably, but they kept it civil and got through the meal without incident. 

Afterwards, Jim found a deck of cards and suggested cribbage, which Blair agreed to, if somewhat unenthusiastically. He was distracted and played half-heartedly, and Jim finally said, “You know, if this is boring you, we can do something else.”

“It’s not boring me, I just have a lot on my mind right now. Besides, what else are we gonna do? Retire to the east wing for brandy and cigars? Not a lot of options here, are there?”

“Like I _don’t_ have a lot on my mind?” Jim gathered up the cards. “At least I’m managing to be where I’m supposed to be on any given day.”

Blair raised an eyebrow. “Is that a jab about me running late this afternoon?”

“Late implies arriving within a reasonable time frame. You blew off lunch all together.”

It was clear the game was over, so Jim got up and put the cards away, then went to add wood to the fire.

“ _Blew off?_ You know, Ellison, you’re a piece of work. I’m scrambling to find a solution to our problems and you’re pissed off about me missing a lunch date. At least I have my priorities straight.”

“Right, of course. I forgot you had this all figured out. Why should I even care?”

“And what the fuck is that supposed to mean? We’ve talked about this. Ad nauseam, in fact. There’s not much else _I_ can say.”

“You know what? I’ve had it with this. It’s late and I’m going to get some sleep.” Jim looked pointedly from the bed to the sofa and back again. The bed was a good six inches too short for him, but the sofa was tiny. It was barely going to hold Blair. Still, it seemed obvious to him what the sleeping arrangements should be.

“Yes, Conan, I get your point,” Blair said dryly. “Take the fucking bed. I don’t care, I can sleep on the floor if I have to.”

Jim pulled a couple blankets out of a trunk at the end of the bed and handed one to Blair, who snatched it and unfolded it as he sat down.

“There’s only one pillow,” Jim said, holding it out.

“Just shut up and go to sleep.” Blair thrashed around on the sofa trying to find a decent position.

“Fine by me.” Jim shrugged and climbed into bed.

“Good.”

“Great.”

~~~~~

Jim woke to a grey and depressing dawn. He’d had lousy night, and he was well aware that Blair had too. When he wasn’t dwelling on their problems, Jim listened to Blair toss and turn. Sometime in the wee hours of the morning, they’d both fallen into a fitful sleep. He sat up and saw that Blair was now curled awkwardly on the sofa, one arm hanging to the floor. Outside, random flakes still fell lightly, but the storm had more or less passed. The wind died down and everything was covered in a thick blanket of fresh snow.

Jim got up quietly and rebuilt the fire, then went to the kitchen to fill the kettle and put it on the stove. Behind him, he heard Blair stirring, and thought about what he should say to him. At the moment, in the tangle of mental crap Jim was dealing with, the best he could muster was, “Good morning.”

“No, it’s not.” Blair groaned and perched on the edge of the sofa, trying to work the kinks out of his back. The dark look on his face kept Jim from saying anything else.

Blair got up and brushed past him to the refrigerator, where he grabbed a beer and twisted it open, tossing the cap in the sink. He took a healthy swig and went back into the living room.

“It’s a little early for that, don’t you think?” Jim leaned against the counter and folded his arms.

“I’ll float a cornflake in it,” Blair snapped.

“Well, aren’t you a ray of sunshine.”

“Go to hell, Ellison. I’ve had a shitty night’s sleep, I had a lousy day yesterday, and we’re snowed in for god knows how long. I’m in no mood for your bullshit right now.”

Jim raised an eyebrow but didn’t dignify that with a response. Instead, he opened a can of peaches and took it to the table along with a bowl of dry cornflakes. Breakfast of champions, right? He didn’t like the uneasy silence between them. Hell, he didn’t like the whole fucking situation.

“Look, Blair,” he finally said, poking his peaches with a spoon, “I realize that now you’ve made your decision, you’re anxious to get on with your new life, whatever that’s gonna be. You’ve made that perfectly clear, but-”

“What life, Jim?” Blair sat forward and leaned his elbows on his knees, rolling the beer bottle between his hands. “What life would that be? Have you not been paying any fucking attention? It’s like you don’t really understand what’s going on.”

“Are you nuts? This is all because of me. Of course, I understand what’s going on.”

Blair laughed dryly. “You would think it’s all about you.”

“Isn’t it? I think I understand all too clearly.”

“I don’t even know what that means.”

Jim shook his head and got up to rinse his can and throw it in the garbage. He cleaned up Blair’s bottle cap, and started to make a cup of tea. “Look, I don’t want to argue with you. It’s obvious your mind is made up.”

“Oh, you don’t wanna argue with me, huh? Well, maybe I want to argue with you.” Blair got up and crossed the room, facing off with Jim. “I’m about to turn my life upside down for you, to _protect_ you, and instead of showing a...a _shred_ of gratitude, you’ve been walking around with a stick up your ass like I’ve somehow done you a great wrong.”

“Well, you know, maybe if you didn’t seem to want to wash your hands of it so quickly.”

“Wash my hands of it?!” Blair was shouting now. “I devoted four years of my life to you, helped you deal with your senses, bailed you out of I don’t know _how_ many fucked up situations, and now I have to scrap my entire career to keep you out of more of them.”

“Hey, I didn’t ask for any of that. You tracked me down, remember?!”

“What, you weren’t looking for help when I found you? You really think you could have figured out how to be a sentinel on your own? You’d have been dead or committed within six months. Don’t act like you didn’t get plenty out of this arrangement. It’s not like you’ve just been doing me a great big favor all this time.”

“Oh, I got more than I bargained for,” Jim muttered.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

Jim mentally kicked himself, because he really wasn’t ready to get into all that. Blair knew, of course, but they didn’t talk about it. Not yet. The way things were going, it was probably just as well. Except...Jim knew it wasn’t going away. Not for him, anyway.

Blair gave him a shove. “Earth to Ellison, what the fuck are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about us,” Jim snapped, shoving him back. “You and me, and this thing we have. I mean, you intended that to happen, right? That I would fall for you. Part of the whole sentinel/guide bonding thing. Some kind of deep connection that would help us work together. Or was that just so you could get better thesis data? Not that it really makes a difference since it’s all over, and you’re just ready to move on.”

“Holy shit, there is a hell of a lot to unpack there.” Blair blinked and held up his hands, taking a step back. “I don’t even know where to start.”

“Does it matter now?”

“Well, yes it does, and if you don’t know that, you’re a bigger asshole than I thought.” He raked a hand through his hair, pacing. Then he stopped and turned. “You think I….I what, _seduced_ you to improve my dissertation? Are you _insane?_ ”

“What would you call it? With all the flirting and the touching, and the way you insinuated yourself into my life?”

Blair raised his eyebrows. “Insinuated. That’s nice.” He shook his head ruefully. “First of all, it would have been highly unethical for me to seduce you, so I _didn’t_. And second, you are the biggest pricktease I’ve ever met in my life, so don’t go talking to me about touching and flirting.”

“Prick-?” Jim stepped forward and loomed over Blair, poking him in the chest. “You listen here-”

Blair smacked his hand and pushed him backwards. “Get the fuck out of my face. I’m not putting up with that intimidation bullshit from you.”

Then the tension snapped and they were on each other, damn near brawling. Blair kicked Jim’s foot out from under him and they both went down in a heap, wrestling on the floor with no clear outcome in mind. It’s not like they were going to start throwing punches at each other, but the anger and frustration had come to a head, and at the moment, words weren’t enough to express it, so they fought to get the better of each other. They crashed into the legs of the table, and knocked off the bowl, raining cornflakes down around them. It ended when Blair caught Jim off guard with a knee to the gut hard enough to knock the air out of him. While Jim worked on catching his breath, Blair untangled himself and scooted backwards to lean against the kitchen cabinets, panting and pushing his hair out of his face. He looked defiant and wary at the same time.

Jim made his way up to sitting, and rested against the sink base, at a right angle to Blair. He rubbed the muscles in his side, working out the knot where Blair got him. Neither one of them spoke. The fight had drained out of them, and they just sat, staring straight ahead, trying to get a handle on the situation.

After a while, Blair broke the silence. “I never said I was leaving.” He pulled his knees up and leaned his head back. “You keep talking about how I’m out the door and washing my hands of everything, but I haven’t even gotten that far, Jim. I have no fucking clue what I’m gonna do.”

“Not the same as staying.”

Blair leveled a gaze on him. “And how in the fuck was I supposed to know you wanted me to stay? In all this talk about how we’re gonna handle the thesis problem, you never once said a damn word about what you wanted to happen afterward.”

“You’re honestly gonna say you had no idea there was something between us? That you didn’t know, or you didn’t care about me? Like it wouldn’t matter if you just up and quit?”

“Of course, I care about you-”

Jim cut him off. “You know what I’m talking about.”

“Yes, I do,” said Blair, patiently, “and, yes, I have some pretty serious feelings for you. I’ve had to keep a lid on them, but they’re there. Did I know you had them for me? I don’t know. Hoped, maybe, but you play your cards pretty close to the vest, and it’s not like I was in any position to push the issue. So, no, Jim, I don’t have a fucking clue what you want out of this. Care to enlighten me? Because clearly I have been fucking it up big time.”

Jim shook his head. “Jesus, I’m still trying to figure that out. I wasn’t prepared for this. Guys was never my thing.”

“Oh bullshit,” Blair scoffed. “You and I both know that’s not true. You forget, I know which closets your skeletons won’t come out of.”

“I mean falling for one. A relationship with one.”

“You mean _relationships_ aren’t your thing. With anyone.”

“Fine,” Jim sighed. “Does it really matter what the issue is?”

“Yes. Making it about me is cop-out. This is about your inability to handle a serious relationship. It doesn’t matter that it’s me.”

“Except, it is about you.” Jim furrowed his brow. “My problem is I have a relationship with you, or thought I did, thought maybe it was headed that way. But lately I get the impression that nothing’s what it seemed to be. Look, I get that I’m not the best at communication, but we clearly have some things to work out here.”

“That’s the understatement of the century.”

At least it was out in the open. They’d finally talked about it, even if all that did was show them how fucked up things were. Blair gazed across the room, lost in a thousand yard stare, and Jim didn’t know what to say next. Some cornflakes were scattered on the floor nearby. He pushed them around with his finger, and then squashed one.

Without breaking his stare or his expression, Blair muttered, “Cereal killer.”

It took a few moments for that to filter through, then Jim looked over at him, incredulous. “Did you actually just say that?”

“I’m sorry man, I don’t know.” Blair shook his head, a faint smile on his face. “Stress? Hysteria? Cabin fever? I'm at a loss, here. We just opened up a brand new can of worms, and we’re already runnin’ a fucking bait shop.”

Jim nodded and and looked at the floor. “You want to drown a couple of ‘em?

“Worms?”

“Cornflakes.”

Blair looked at him quizzically, and Jim flipped the fridge open and reached up for a couple of beers. He offered one to Blair.

“Oh, I see.” Blair took the bottle and opened it. “Let the cornflakes live, we’ve earned these straight up.”

They sat on the floor of the kitchen for a while, drinking beer in silence, letting the tension dissipate.

“You’re right,” Blair said, finally, “we do have a lot to work out. But we can...if we want to. I mean, ethics aren’t going to be a problem now.”

“I know I don’t want you to go anywhere.” Jim took a swig of beer. “But, we’ve already established I’m no good at this.”

“Oh, I’m not sayin’ it’ll be easy, but, you know...I don’t want to leave either.”

“Okay.” Jim nodded slowly. “Yeah, okay.” 

This felt better, this felt like something he maybe could handle. He and Blair had cleared the air some, and the strain of the last few weeks was gone, at least temporarily. They got up and cleaned the kitchen, putting everything back the way they’d found it. Blair wrote a note and left a twenty dollar bill to cover the food and beer they’d taken. 

As they were finishing up, Jim cocked his head and smiled. “I hear snowplows. Maybe once traffic starts moving we can get some help with the truck and go home.”

“I’d like that.”


End file.
